


Seared With Scars

by LaceFedora



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Movie Canon Compliant, Post BotFA, burn scars, metaphysical burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 20:17:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4578483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaceFedora/pseuds/LaceFedora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes Bard’s mind a moment to process what he’s seeing. He gasps and his hand moves quickly grasping the collar of Thranduil’s chest plate and pulling him down to Bard’s level so he can confirm what he’s seeing. A great scar is covering the left side of Thranduil’s face. Tendons and muscle completely exposed, his left eye white and unseeing.</p>
<p>(Originally written for Brodinsons on my tumblr.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seared With Scars

**Author's Note:**

> For Brodinsons. Because we were discussing how there aren’t enough angsty fics where Bard sees Thranduil’s scars. This fic takes the scars as metaphysical rather than hidden with glamour. ( originally posted 2/9/2015 over on my tumblr)

Gathering the dead takes days after the battle is over. The bodies of Thorin Oakenshield and his nephews are collected first, by ten dwarves and one hobbit that refuse any assistance from any other race, even their own, then lain to rest that very night in a funeral attended by all. Then next days are spent separating Elves, Men, and Dwarves, from the poisonous corpses of orcs. Every one helps, the races united in respect for their dead. The orcs were burnt, everyone else was returned to their people to make the proper arrangements.

It’s there that Bard finds Thranduil, walking among the bodies of fallen elves. Hundreds had died, slain in the service of their king. Bard can almost feel the sadness coming off the man as he approaches him from behind. The two of them had developed a sort of friendship, companionship, as they worked together, organizing the clean up efforts. When he’s close enough, Bard reaches up, touching Thranduil’s shoulder, trying to lend the Elf some support. When Thranduil turns toward him it’s almost as though time has slowed. It takes Bard’s mind a moment to process what he’s seeing. He gasps and his hand moves quickly grasping the collar of Thranduil’s chest plate and pulling him down to Bard’s level so he can confirm what he’s seeing.

A great scar is covering the left side of Thranduil’s face. Tendons and muscle completely exposed, his left eye white and unseeing.

“By the gods! What’s happened? Is this a burn?” Bard asks him, shaken as he looks upon his friend. Thranduil only seems to blink at him slowly, as though he’s far away and cannot hear what bard has said to him. But slowly he focuses especially when Bard’s hand comes up toward the scar. Thranduil catches the hand in his own, stopping it, though Bard has no idea how he say it coming with his left eye so blinded.

“It is an old wound… and it will be gone soon. I do not mean to disturb you with it.” Thranduil says, his voice is steady and unchanged, Bard had expected it to sound different with the great hole where his cheek used to be. The melancholy in his words strikes at something in Bard’s chest though and he raises his other hand to rest on Thranduil’s shoulder, still trying to lend some sort of comfort. His right hand is still being held firmly by Thranduil’s left.

“Well I’m afraid I am disturbed to see you so hurt, and so changed. What is this Thranduil? And What do you mean it will be gone soon? Do you hide it? Has this always been here?” He asks. Had Thranduil been hiding this since the battle? Or longer? It looked raw still.

“It is no trick or Glamour as you might think.” Thranduil says and breathes out slowly, struggling to explain to a human. “Seeing so many of my subjects dead, pains me greatly, more than you can even comprehend, Bard. In my grief I cannot help but remember another battlefield. The pain and grief rise up in me and so do the scars… they are the scars of war, left on my heart and mind, though, not on my body, so my body changes to reflect them.”

Bard watches him, running over what he’s said in his mind a few times. “So… your spirit is what’s damaged… and because you are so sad over your losses, your body is manifesting those wounds? Almost like it’s trying to find another outlet for your pain.” Bard says faintly and swallows. Thranduil nods, looking at Bard closely and seems just the faintest bit surprised. “Will it hurt you if I touch it?” Bard continues.

“I-… no… it won’t hurt.” Thranduil says, frowning, clearly puzzled by the human’s motivation. Bard tugs his hand free of Thranduil’s hold though and reaches up to his face. He, ever so tenderly, touches the edges of the scar, starting at the jaw and gently making his way up to Thranduil’s brow.

“You are a great King… to feel so much on behalf of your people. I have only ever seen the leaders of men be cruel and careless to those under them.” Bard says and meets Thranduil’s eyes. He had respected the Elvenking for a very long time, long before he’d actually known him. When he had come with aide for the people of Laketown unbidden that respect had only grown. “But you, King Thranduil, are such a marvel.”

Thranduil stares at him in shock and as Bard offers him a smile, slowly, ever so slowly, the scars begin to melt away.

“You, King Bard of Dale, You continue to surprise me.” Thranduil tells him seriously, his voice low, and then tips his head forward until it rests against Bard’s. Bard’s hand moves carefully into Thranduil’s long hair, it’s texture unlike anything Bard has felt before, flowing through his fingers like cool water.

“I will endeavor to keep that up, My Lord.” Bard tells him, letting Thranduil do as he pleased, the elf did not seem the type to allow himself to take comfort in touch often. He was just glad his words had helped somehow and he soon can’t stop himself when his hand retraces it’s earlier path, meeting nothing now but unblemished skin. “Do you take comfort from me?” Bard asks him after they have stood together for some time.

“It seems that I do. Your virtues seem to captivate me.” Thranduil says in response and to Bard’s astonishment, the Elf catches Bard’s hair in his hand and presses their mouths together in a brief, hard, kiss. Bard makes a surprised noise, yet still tries to chase after Thranduil’s mouth when he pulls away completely, straightening himself to his full height. “This is not the place for such things.” He insists and Bard blinks and takes in their surroundings once more. No, surrounded by death was not the way to begin such things, standing in a field of Thranduil’s fallen kin.

“Later then.” Bard promises, assuring Thranduil that this matter would be discussed in full.

“I would expect nothing else… Will you accompany me back to camp?” Thranduil asks him, his expression has quickly darkened again upon seeing his men. “I still have arrangements to make.”

“Yes of course.” Bard agrees, wanting very much to stand at Thranduil’s side and offer comfort as long as he can.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Seared with Scars](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11612061) by [KeeperofSeeds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeeperofSeeds/pseuds/KeeperofSeeds)




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